Epilogue 1
Calliope
The quiet of the night wraps around me like a blanket. Nothing stirs at this hour, even the horses and cattle are still. I make my way across the pastures on silent footsteps, glancing up at the cloudless sky and thousands of stars lighting my way.
Being out here, where the world itself reminds me of how small and insignificant we all are, is the reality check I need to remember that, in the grand scheme of things, I am not that important.
I don’t say that to myself in a negative way.
I made a vow never to make myself feel smaller or less than anyone else once I got out of prison.
I live by that creed. I like being important, to this town and to the people I love.
But when you throw in the gifts I have and the money I have access to, it would be easy to be seduced into becoming a version of my father that I would hate myself for.
Not answering to anyone might sound appealing on a base level, but I’m smart enough to know I need people to hold me accountable.
I’d been too weak, too love-starved for so long that it’s almost instinctual to gorge myself on power now, so I never have to feel like that again.
There is a slippery slope that starts with protecting myself and leads to persecuting those I think deserve it. I’m already balancing on a knife-edge when it comes to that, one I’m continuously slipping off of. And each self-inflicted cut gets a little deeper, each time I allow myself to fall.
When I reach the place where the twisted branches of my tree fortress rise into the sky, I take a deep, steadying breath and press my hand to the knurled wood and send my command into it.
A soft caress is followed by the vines pulling back, revealing a narrow path.
I step onto it. None of the cameras will be the wiser.
I don’t know if it’s the electricity that courses through me, or something else.
The cameras keep right on recording in my presence, only I’m nowhere to be seen.
I become effectively invisible. That’s both awe-inspiring and terrifying because the darkness in me grins maniacally at the prospect.
The trees close around me, shrouding me in darkness until I open my hand, a glow emanating from it.
I glance at the lush green grass and take a step back so I’m not in the way.
I close my eyes and concentrate until I hear the swish of grass and the creaking of wood, then open them again, revealing a dimly lit tunnel leading underground.
I head down the steps, the familiar scent of damp earth comforting me as I begin the trek back the way I came, only this time underground.
I hum a song I heard on the radio last week, an upbeat melodic tune that I instantly forgot the words to, and the sound echoes in the narrow space.
I stop when I hear a familiar noise. After spending as long as I did in a cage, surrounded by women filled with hopeless despair, there is no forgetting the sounds of quiet, desolation-filled sobs.
This time, it brings a smile to my face. I hum a little louder and walk a little faster, feeling a jolt of anticipation hit me as the tunnel opens into a larger space. The dim emergency lights give the space a horror movie vibe until I flip the overhead lights on.
I look at the naked man chained to the ground by his wrists, ankles, and neck, lying in a pool of his own excrement, and grimace, the smell making me want to gag. I guess turning on the lights doesn’t remove the horror vibe at all.
Stripping out of my crimson-red silk nightdress, I hang it on one of the hooks on the wall beside me, leaving me naked as the day I was born.
I glance around the room out of habit more than anything else, to make sure everything is as it should be.
I know nobody has been down here. Aside from the entrance being impossible to find, the house would let me know if anyone was intruding.
The only person who could circumvent that is a man with a similar setup himself, who would consider this place foreplay.
The room is mostly empty, aside from my current guest, of course.
That’s by design. The drain on the ground and the water hose on the far wall are the reasons.
The more I have in here, the more things I’d have to clean, and that seems counterproductive.
I move over to the hose and turn it on, blasting my guest with cold water, ripping a scream from him that makes me smile.
Yeah, I can easily see how corruptible power can be. It’s just hard to remember why that’s a bad thing sometimes. If it weren’t for Hannah, my guys, and the new budding friendships, I’d have likely wiped out this whole town just because I can.
Once the smell of shit has gone, and the room is clean once more, I turn off the water and move to crouch next to the now shivering and cursing man. “Hello, Derek. Did you miss me?”
Derek’s eyes crack open, and he looks at me, fear warring with hatred. “You’re a crazy bitch,” he whimpers, but there is no force in his words. He is too weak and cold from being my guest for the last week.
“Why, thank you.”
“You won’t get away with this. I know people. People who’ll come looking for me.”
“People like your mother? I hate to break it to you, but Jackie hopes you never come back. In her heart, you’ve seen the error of your ways, met a nice girl, and settled down.
But she knows, deep down, that you’re just a shitty human, and that’s a pipe dream.
Still, I let her have that because she needs it.
And as long as she has no body to identify, she’ll be none the wiser. ”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but I cover it with my hand.
“Maybe you were talking about Porter? Or should I just say, Daddy? Well, he’ll find it hard to rescue you now that he’s currently occupying the grave he should have been in fifteen years ago.”
His eyes widen in shock. “Didn’t know that, huh?
What? You think you can shoot Dawn and then go hide out at your daddy’s old hunting cabin?
And the world would just go back to normal, waiting with bated breath for you to make your next move?
Oh, wait, the next move was supposed to be Porter’s because he was meant to take out Jackie for you.
Yeah, I know all about that. Dear old Dad was happy to share the details.
He was also willing to admit that he had no plans to hold up his end.
Why would he? You’d already done what he wanted you to do. ”
I move my hand away as he snaps and curses. I walk into the next room, which is full of equipment, and select what I want. I wheel it in and push it against the far wall so it’s not in my way.
When his words taper off, I look over at him, malice in my eyes. “Oh, perhaps it was none of those. Maybe you were waiting for your friend from the US Marshals Service to descend, ripping into my life and tearing my ranch apart.”
His mouth slips open, hope bleeding from his eyes.
“I’ll admit, I can see why you guys would be friends.
Assholes tend to stick together. Well, he came, he saw, and he failed to conquer.
He tried to pin a little bit of everything on me, but I was confused why he’d risk everything when the warrant was clearly full of holes.
I got Jen digging into the legal side of things and Austin digging into the dark side, and there it was. ”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarls, but it’s pure panic.
“I know Beckett, that marshal friend of yours, was working with Porter all along. He had no intention of bringing down the money-laundering racket when he was getting such a huge payoff to look the other way—money that came from my ranch. The worst part is that Beckett was investigating my father, Martin Hart. That’s what got him sent here in the first place.
I don’t know how long it took for him to realize that Porter and Martin were the same person, or how Porter managed to get him over to his side, but that man could sell fur coats in hell.
My guess is Porter brought you in after you were kicked out of the department.
He’d lost Dale and needed someone to stroke his ego and do his dirty work.
When I slipped a little something into Porter’s coffee creamer, and he started acting more erratic, even for him, you reached out to Beckett personally.
You needed to make sure you were covered if Porter lost it completely.
He ignored you, didn’t he? You were a nobody with nothing to offer, not until Porter stopped checking in and missed his prearranged meet-up.
Then Beckett was scrambling. He’s calling you for information, and you’re angry, not just at me but at him and Porter for not recognizing you’re an alpha male.
” I pretend to gag as I walk into the other room again and drag out another piece of equipment.
“You spewed your hatred about me, and your suspicions, implying I knew all of Porter’s dirty deeds and that I was responsible for all the missing men in this god-forsaken town.
You painted a target on my back because I bitch-slapped the alpha out of you.
Beckett came looking for bodies, but also for any information that might incriminate him.
And when he found none, he realized you’d fucked him over.
So I guess in a way, you’re right. He is looking for you, but for all the wrong reasons.
Last I heard, he was being investigated himself.
And who do you think he’s going to hold responsible for that?
He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d do well in jail.
There are too many people inside that he helped put there.
Yeah, if he gets convicted, I see him more of a going out in a blaze of glory kind of way, and I’d put good money on him wanting to take you with him. ”